


Where to, Cas?

by FriendofCarlotta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, References to 5x03, References to 8x07, References to 8x17, References to 9x03, Set during 9x16, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22720726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendofCarlotta/pseuds/FriendofCarlotta
Summary: For a moment, Dean holds Cas’ eyes with his, and the silence between them settles into his chest like a physical thing. Finally, he says: “So, why Steve?”Cas shrugs. “It seemed common. Anonymous. A good name to hide behind.”Dean can practically feel all the things he wants to say crowding up his throat, trying to get out. You shouldn’t have to hide. I should have let you stay at the bunker. I wanted you to stay. But you can’t, because I made a stupid mistake to save Sammy’s life and now I’m stuck and I don’t know how to fix it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 121





	Where to, Cas?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my first time writing for this fandom, so be kind to my fragile, fragile feelings :) . Actually, never mind that. Be brutally honest so I can get better at this. Just, you know, comment!  
> Anyway, I've always had this headcanon that 9x06 would have been the first time Dean and Cas slept with each other, so I wrote a thing about it. I hope you enjoy!

“Where to, Cas?”

Dean watches as Cas opens the Impala’s passenger door and slides onto the bench seat next to him.

For a beat, they just sit, Cas staring down at his fingers as they twist in his lap.

Dean is just beginning to wonder if he should repeat the question when Cas lifts his head.

“Do you still have my vest?”

“Oh, um… yeah, sure.”

Dean reaches into the back seat and feels around until his hand lands on the bunched-up piece of fabric there. As he passes the vest to Cas, his fingers brush over the name tag pinned to the front. One side of his mouth quirks up in a weak imitation of a smile. “So I guess I should call you Steve now, huh?”

Cas looks back at him, mirroring his sort-of-but-not-really smile. “That’s not necessary, Dean.”

“Yeah, not sure I could’ve gotten used to that anyway.”

For a moment, Dean holds Cas’ eyes with his, and the silence between them settles into his chest like a physical thing. Finally, he says: “So, why Steve?”

Cas shrugs. “It seemed common. Anonymous. A good name to hide behind.”

Dean can practically feel all the things he wants to say crowding up his throat, trying to get out. _You shouldn’t have to hide. I should have let you stay at the bunker. I wanted you to stay. But you can’t, because I made a stupid mistake to save Sammy’s life and now I’m stuck and I don’t know how to fix it._ He swallows it down.

Instead, he says: “Um… I think if we keep hanging out in front of your date’s house like this, she might actually call the cops on us.” He reaches out his hand and gives Cas’ shoulder a tentative squeeze. “So where to, man?”

Something in Cas’ expression closes off, and he turns away from Dean, staring out the passenger-side window. “You can just take me back to the Gas-n-Sip.”

“What?” Dean leans forward, trying to catch Cas’ eye. “What are you talking about? That place doesn’t open for another…” He checks his watch. It’s just after 10 p.m. “Like, eight hours.”

Cas shrugs. “I have a key.”

Dean’s throat suddenly feels dry. “Cas, do… do you have a place to stay?”

Cas looks back at him, his blue-eyed stare icy. “Don’t be silly, Dean. Of course I do.” A beat. “I’m just… a conscientious employee. I sometimes spend nights doing inventory at the store.”

It’s a weak cover story, and Dean knows it. But he doesn’t know what would happen if he challenged Cas on this, and it’s not like anything about their situation has changed. Cas can’t stay at the bunker while Zeke is still healing Sam; that’s all there is to it.

But there is one thing Dean _can_ do. “Hey, listen. We just finished a goddamn hunt and that calls for a celebration. Why don’t you come back to my room with me for a little while? We can have a drink, catch up?”

He shouldn’t feel as nervous about this offer as he does. They’re just two friends who haven’t seen each other for a while. Having a beer together is a normal friend thing to do. And a couple of drinks might help loosen some of the awkwardness that’s built up between them since…

In his mind, he’s back at the bunker a couple of weeks ago, looking down at Cas, freshly showered and digging into a fast food burrito like it’s manna from Heaven.

_Cas, uh, can we talk?_

_Of course. Dean, you know I always appreciate our talks. Our time together._

_Listen, buddy. Um… You can’t stay._

Dean shakes his head to dispel the image of the way Cas had looked at him then; like his whole world was crumbling around him.

He’s so busy trying to get his thoughts under control, he almost misses Cas’ answer.

“Sure, Dean. I’d like that.”

Dean forces a grin onto his face. “Great. Let’s go.”

He shifts the Impala into drive and eases out of the parking space in front of Nora’s house. For the next mile or so, neither of them says anything. Dean gets so used to the silence, he actually jumps a little when Cas says: “It wasn’t a date.”

“What?”

“With Nora. I… I thought she was asking me out. But she was just looking for someone to babysit her daughter while she went on a date with… with someone else.”

Dean looks over at Cas, who is very determinedly staring out the passenger-side window again.

“Oh.” Great work, Winchester, he thinks. Very eloquent. “Yeah, I… I was wondering when I saw you were at the house by yourself with just the baby.” He shrugs. “I wasn’t gonna mention it.”

Cas shakes his head. When he speaks again, there’s something raw in his voice that Dean doesn’t like to hear. “I was stupid to think anyone could find me attractive. I failed at being an angel, and now I’m failing at being human.”

Dean doesn’t even know where to start with that. “Cas, that’s not… you’re… just don’t…”

Cas glares at him. “Just drive, Dean.”

So he does.

***

It takes them another 10 minutes to get to the motel after that. It’s just a little roadside place, but the owner seems to care a little more than average. There’s no dust in the room, the furniture is carefully polished, and Dean noticed when he took a nap earlier that the sheets actually smelled clean.

Best of all, there’s a mini fridge that’s currently holding two six-packs. A couple of bottles of cheap bourbon are sitting on the small table next to the TV. Dean knew it wasn’t going to be easy seeing Cas after what happened at the bunker, so he came prepared.

When Cas steps into the room, Dean motions for him to sit at the small, round table by the window. Outside, the “vacancy” sign blinks on and off with a sickly red glow that reflects off the gleaming tabletop.

Dean turns on the light, dispelling the eerie reflection, and walks over to the fridge. “Beer or bourbon?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

Dean nods. “We’ll start with beer and work our way up from there.”

He grabs two bottles out of the fridge and twists the caps off. Pulling out the chair opposite Cas, he slumps into it. He touches his bottle to Cas’ and takes a sip. Slowly, hesitantly, Cas picks up his own bottle and mirrors Dean’s movement. Dean tries not to watch Cas’ throat as he swallows, but fails miserably. He wonders what the hell they’re supposed to talk about.

“How’s Sam?” Cas asks when he lowers the bottle, and Dean is profoundly grateful for the question, even if it’s a somewhat loaded one these days.

“Better,” he says. “Still recovering from the trials obviously, but I think he’ll be alright.”

Cas picks at the label on his bottle, then says, “He’s lucky to have you to take care of him.”

There’s something pointed in the words, something loaded that Dean doesn’t want to examine. Casting around for a safe detour, he lands on: “Did I ever tell you about the time Sammy dressed up as Batman and thought he could fly?”

He launches into the story, and just thinking about it makes him feel better. “The dumbass didn’t even realize Batman doesn’t have any superpowers, you know? He just jumped right off that roof and broke his arm, of course. I had to take him to the hospital on the handlebars of my bike.” He chuckles, and feels a little bit of warmth spread in his chest when he looks up to see that Cas is smiling at him.

Something shifts after that, and it’s easier to talk. They have a second beer and reminisce about that time they summoned Raphael together, and Dean actually cackles when he remembers how Cas called Raphael — the big, badass archangel — his “little bitch.” That was the first time he ever heard Cas swear.

“It’s all your influence, Dean,” Cas says, and he’s honest-to-goodness grinning now, his eyes crinkling in a way that’s making Dean’s chest clench up just a little bit. “Before I met you, I was a perfectly respectable Angel of the Lord.”

He stops suddenly, and his smile fades. That’s just it, isn’t it? He’s not an Angel of the Lord anymore. This is dangerous territory.

Dean gets up so quickly, his chair almost falls over. “I’m having a shot of bourbon. You want one?”

“Sure,” Cas says quickly, apparently just as grateful for the distraction as Dean is.

Dean unscrews the cap on one of the bottles and pours a couple of fingers’ worth into two of the glasses lined up next to the coffee maker. His back still turned to Cas, he quickly downs his drink in one gulp before he pours another and carries both glasses back to the table.

He slides Cas’ glass to him across the table, and Cas almost doesn’t catch it. Dean reminds himself that Cas is probably still getting used to alcohol as a human, and might not have the greatest tolerance. “You alright there, Cas?”

“Fine,” he says, and raises the glass to his lips, taking a careful sip. He pulls a face. “I’ll never understand why you like this so much.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s an acquired taste.” He takes a sip of his own drink. If he’s totally honest with himself, this cheap stuff does taste pretty terrible. “And sometimes it isn’t so much about the taste as it is as about the, um, effect.”

Cas nods thoughtfully. “I understand.” His eyes lift, and he stares at Dean. Apparently, being human hasn’t cured him of that particular habit. “It helps you forget,” Cas says quietly.

When Cas was still an angel, Dean sometimes wondered if he could actually read his mind if he stared long enough. He knows, realistically, that as a human, Cas definitely can’t do that, but it still feels like he is at this moment.

“Yeah,” he admits. He almost whispers the next part. “Some stuff is better off forgotten.”

“Like Purgatory?” The question comes out of nowhere and lands like a punch to the chest.

There are many things about Purgatory that Dean would rather forget. Being on the run from monsters, all day every day. Being covered in blood and grime and never knowing when he’d get clean again. But he thinks he knows what Cas is talking about, and it’s one of the few things about that place Dean likes to remember.

***

After he and Benny had found Cas by the side of the river, it had taken them a couple of days to travel back to the portal. Usually, the three of them would huddle close together — strength in numbers, especially with Purgatory’s Most Wanted in tow. But one night, Benny had mumbled something about needing to wash, and he’d taken off for a stream they’d passed a mile back. They’d found an actual cave to stay in that night, and it was probably the most comfortable Dean had been in months.

Him and Cas had sat in the back of the cave together, not talking about anything in particular until Dean had said: “I’m still pissed at you for not answering my prayers.”

Cas had looked over to meet his eyes, his blue stare penetrating. “I know. But I explained why I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well. You could’ve found some way to let me know what you were doing. Or at least let me know that you were alive, for God’s sake.”

Cas didn’t say anything for a while. Then: “Why do you care if I’m alive? The things I did…”

Dean had flared up at that. “Yeah, well, I care, OK?”

He’d suddenly become conscious of how close Cas’ face was to his. He was still so angry and so goddamn glad he’d finally found the bastard, he just leaned forward and closed the distance between them. They were covered in blood and dirt, and there was some kind of sharp rock digging into Dean’s leg, but he didn’t care. The only thing in the world at that moment was the feel of Cas’ soft lips on his, kissing back, hesitantly at first, then opening up to him.

Dean didn’t know how much time passed like that, but he knew that at some point, his hand had come up to cradle Cas’ jaw and the other was running through his hair; it was matted and smeared with some kind of goo, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He could feel a bright smile stretching his face. “Been wanting to do that for a while now.”

Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s, and Dean’s eyes were closed, but he heard the grin in Cas’ voice. “Me too.”

Dean moved away, looking at Cas earnestly. “Hey, after we both get out of here tomorrow, maybe we could…”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence because Cas leaned in and kissed him again. They stayed like that, hands fisted in each other’s clothes and mouths slotted together, until Benny came back and they quickly broke apart.

And then it had all gone to shit. Dean and Cas got separated at the portal, and Cas stayed behind. For the longest time, Dean had thought he’d somehow lost his hold on Cas; he couldn’t let himself believe anything else.

Then, when Cas had finally come back and shown Dean the true memory, what really happened — Cas pushing his hand away and telling him to go — it was worse somehow. He could still hear Cas’ voice in his head, saying “You couldn’t have saved me because I didn’t want to be saved.”

That’s what he’d said, but Dean thought what he’d really meant was, “I didn’t want _you_.”

It didn’t help that Cas just kept taking off after that. When Dean realized someone had been messing with Cas’ head, he’d let himself hope again. Maybe the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding; someone else had been pulling the strings and once Cas was back to being himself, he’d want Dean again.

When Cas had pulled out his blade and attacked Dean in that crypt, trying to get to the angel tablet, Dean had held on tight to that little glimmer of hope. Even when he felt his arm break and his face burn where Cas’ fist had connected with it, he thought if he could just tell Cas how he felt, maybe that would bring him back. He’d forced the words out, all but that one word that just wouldn’t seem to come.

“I love you,” he’d thought.

“I need you,” he’d said.

It had been enough. Cas had lowered the blade and bent down to cradle Dean’s face. For one crazy moment, Dean had thought Cas would kiss him. But then he’d felt the tell-tale tingling under his skin; the one that meant Cas was reaching out with his Grace to heal him. Dean felt his wounds close up and his broken bone knit back together.

And then, after all that, Cas had disappeared again, and Dean had spent that night getting drunk off his head. He’d stomped on all his goddamn feelings for a while then, trying to get rid of them. It hadn’t worked for long, of course.

**

Cas was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“Like… some of the stuff about Purgatory,” Dean replied vaguely.

He tried to hold Cas’ stare, but it was getting harder by the second. Dean picked up his glass and downed the rest of his bourbon. The warmth it spread down his throat and into his gut made him feel suddenly brave. Reckless. “There were some things that happened in Purgatory that I haven’t been able to forget. Haven’t really wanted to either.”

Cas just wouldn’t stop staring. There was something cautious in his tone, like he was feeling his way, when he said: “Like what?”

What the hell, Dean thought. In for a penny… “Like the cave. What happened in the cave.”

Cas nodded slowly, like he was thinking it over. Dean was already regretting opening his big mouth. “You know what, forget I said…”

“I think about that too,” Cas said. There was something moving behind his eyes, Dean thought. It looked like sadness, but also a little bit hopeful.

“Yeah?” Dean desperately wished his glass wasn’t empty. He needed all the liquid courage he could get.

He got up out of his chair, wanting to get back to the bourbon and pour another shot. Instead, he walked over to where Cas was sitting and took his hand, pulling him up. It was a small room, and the wall was close. In two steps, Dean had pinned Cas against it, the smell of beer and bourbon on their mingling breaths.

Dean let his eyes roam over Cas’ face, looking for any hesitation, any sign of disgust or anger. Instead, he found that the lines of his friend’s face had softened; his lips were parted ever so slightly, as though waiting for Dean’s to meet them.

Suddenly, Dean felt Cas’ hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forward. Their lips met, and it felt like no time had passed. Dean felt Cas’ tongue licking against his lips, asking to be let in, and he half expected Benny to walk in, telling them they had to pack up and keep moving.

He pushed that thought firmly away and moved all the way into Cas, their bodies touching along their entire length.

Dean’s mouth moved away from Cas’ lips to trail along his jawline and down his throat, his head swimming as he listened to his friend making quiet, soft noises at the ceiling. He briefly thought back to a couple of hours ago, when he’d helped Cas get ready for his date and told him to unbutton his shirt just a little bit. All he’d been able to think about was getting the rest of the damn things undone. That still seemed like a good idea.

Dean kept mouthing at Cas’ throat as his hands worked their way down the line of buttons. Cas’ hands were sliding up Dean’s back, pushing at his undershirt. Dean stopped what he was doing to shrug out of his flannel and pull his shirt over his head. Then, finally done with the buttons, he pushed Cas’ dress shirt off his shoulders.

He moved back in, resuming their kiss and pushing his leg between Cas’ own to grind against him and enjoy the feel of their bare chests touching. Cas smelled like sweat a little bit, but Dean figured that after a rough night taking care of an infant and killing a half-crazed angel, Cas could be forgiven for that.

Dean reached down to run his fingers over the tattoo on Cas’ stomach; the sequence of Enochian runes that was hiding him from the angels who wanted him dead. Another reminder of how Dean had failed Cas ever since he became human. Dean determinedly pushed it away and took hold of Cas’ hips, walking him slowly towards the bed.

Inwardly, he thanked his brain for holding on to that stupid hope when he’d packed his duffel at the bunker and, at the last moment, tossed a roll of condoms and a bottle of lube on top.

**

When it was all over, Cas fell asleep with his head on Dean’s chest. Everything was sticky and they both really needed a shower, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to care. He was trying hard to hold on to the afterglow, but it was fading rapidly.

This changed nothing. The situation was still the same. Zeke didn’t want Cas at the bunker; he’d made it clear that he would leave if Cas came back, and that would mean Sammy’s death. Dean couldn’t be responsible for that. And he definitely couldn’t tell Cas the truth. He could picture all too clearly the look of disappointment, maybe even contempt, that the truth would earn him.

No, this was his mess. He needed to clean it up. And then, maybe then, he could ask Cas to come back. But right now, it just wasn’t an option.

Dean lay like that for a long time, feeling Cas’ back rise and fall under his hand. Cas had told him that falling asleep was one of the hardest things to get used to about being human. Dean smiled a little at that, remembering how Cas had fallen asleep against him in less than two minutes. He let himself drift off then, the smile slowly sliding from his face.

Too soon, the first rays of sunlight stole into the room, waking Dean. He looked down at Cas, whose face was now nestled in the crook of Dean’s arm, their limbs tangled around each other. Ignoring the way his chest tightened at the sight, Dean slipped off the bed and slouched to the bathroom, finally taking that shower.

When Dean came back, already dressed, Cas was sitting up on the bed in nothing but his boxers, giving him a shy smile. Dean tried to return it, but wasn’t sure he was really managing. “Morning. You… you’re working today, right? You should probably take a shower.”

He turned and started throwing stuff into his duffel, but didn’t miss the way Cas’ smile disappeared, replaced by an expressionless mask Dean hadn’t seen since Cas’ “good soldier” days. Dean wondered if Cas had expected to start the day with another kiss. He bit down hard on his lower lip to chase that thought out of his head; he couldn’t afford to get shaky about this.

**

They didn’t say a word to each other on the drive to Gas-n-Sip. Not until the Impala pulled up in front of the store.

Dean really didn’t know what to say, but he needed to say something, so he went with: “Listen, Cas… back at the bunker, I, uh… Sorry I told you to go.” He plowed on, afraid Cas would ask him to explain himself. “I know it’s been hard on you, you know, on your own. But you’re adapting. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas sighed audibly, seeming to resign himself to something. “But there’s something Ephraim said. The angels… they need help. Can I really sit this out? Shouldn’t I be searching for a way to get them home?”

Dean realized then that maybe he couldn’t offer Cas a home; not yet. But there was something else that he could. “Me and Sam will take care of the angels. You’re human now. It’s not your problem anymore.”

Because that was what Cas wanted, wasn’t it? A normal, human life. “Human dignity,” as he’d called it. Even if it meant cleaning bathrooms and smiling at rude strangers all day.

Cas was still looking at Dean, like he was waiting for him to say something else. When Dean didn’t, Cas got out of the car. Hesitating again, he turned around and leaned back through the passenger-side window.

Dean lifted one side of his mouth, trying for a smile, but it was a sad little thing. He lifted one hand and gave an awkward little wave. Cas returned his not-a-smile, and the wave. Then he heaved himself off the window frame and turned around to unlock the store’s front door. Dean forced his eyes away from the way Cas’ shoulders slumped, looking defeated even from the back.

Dean just stared straight ahead at the road, forcing himself to keep putting distance between himself and that little Idaho convenience store. It took him an hour to realize he hadn’t even put on any music. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Comments keep me going!


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